


Blue Days, Black Nights

by janonny



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Comedy, Crack Treated Seriously, Fix-It, Flip phone shenanigans!, M/M, Pining, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Reconciliation, so much pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-07 19:39:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15226413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janonny/pseuds/janonny
Summary: Over the span of two years as a fugitive, Steve gets a little too attached to the flip phone, his only link to Tony. (Or the story where Steve is an overachiever, even when it comes to his brooding.)





	Blue Days, Black Nights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kenshincha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenshincha/gifts).



> Thank you so much to my beta-reader [astrofrogged](http://astrofrogged.tumblr.com/) for the excellent job, super-fast turnaround time, sanity checks and reassurances! As I made changes even after the fic was beta-ed, all mistakes are my own. Thank you to the mods for organising this great event! Kenshincha, thank you for all your interesting prompts and I hope you like this fic! I'm also working on another fic for one of your long prompts, because that inspired me too. :)
> 
> Prompt: The flip phone
> 
> Warning: Some Infinity War spoilers ahead! Much of the story happens before the events of IW, but this fic also references certain IW events and changes them. Please note that Pepper and Tony are not in a relationship in this story.

It wasn’t a problem.

Not at first.

Sam was snoring in the other bed in the musty, cramped motel room. The beds were singles with stiff, lumpy mattresses, but Steve had slept on worst. He had slept on the ground, in the dirt, on concrete floor, in a tree. A lumpy bed was hardly the worst of it.

And yet, he still couldn’t sleep.

He reached out and quietly picked up the phone on the bedside table, flipping it open. By habit, he checked the charge left on the phone and its reception. It had a full signal, because it always had a full signal, courtesy of Wakanda’s technology. When T’Challa had offered Steve new uniforms and new gear, Steve had turned it all down. The only Wakandan technology he had wanted were two phones that could always be reached, dressed up to look old and outdated. It looked exactly like the kind of phone that would get one tech genius billionaire riled up.

Except that hadn’t worked so far.

It had been two months since he had mailed the phone to Tony, but he hadn’t heard anything from him since. A week ago, Steve had decided to reach out again, by way of a text message. Clicking on the rubber keypad, Steve navigated to the text messages and opened the message he had sent.

Steve: _How are you doing, Tony?_

Simple, neutral, to the point. And ignored completely. There was no response from Tony. But what did Steve expect? That Tony would be just raring to talk to him?

Steve sighed and shut the flip phone before placing it back on the table. He closed his eyes and started counting upwards, trying to lull himself into sleep.

Slowly, between a hazy count of 180 and 190, he drifted off.

He jerked awake to the sound of harsh ringing, eyes opening as he registered the unmelodic trilling that kept repeating. He sat up as quickly as he could, feeling groggy as he groped around on the bedside table. He brushed against the rough lampshade, felt over the bulky shape of the motel room’s phone…

Where was the flip phone?

_Kriiiing, kriiiing… Kriiiing, kriiiing…_

He pushed himself out of bed, finally finding the switch that turned on the lamp on the bedside table. The low yellow glow illuminated half the room in a sickly light, and Steve could clearly see the bedside table now. Other than the lamp and the motel room phone, there was nothing else on the surface of the table. The flip phone wasn’t there.

The harsh ringing continued in a repetitive, irritating screech, and Steve turned his head, trying to pinpoint where the sound was coming from. He looked at the floor around the table, but there wasn’t anything there. The ringing didn’t sound like it was coming from the floor.

_Kriiiing, kriiiing… Kriiiing, kriiiing…_

He turned, frantically feeling through the blankets and the sheets. Had he forgotten to put the phone back on the table? Was it on the bed? The ringing didn’t seem like it was coming from there either.

Steve moved to the other bed in the room, feeling through it as well. Just an empty bed, no phone revealed to his searching fingers.

_Kriiiing, kriiiing… Kriiiing, kriiiing…_

Where was the phone? Tony was trying to call him, and that meant Tony _needed him_ , but Steve couldn’t find the phone. What if Tony was in trouble? What if he needed help? Steve started to tear at the sheets, throwing them to the floor. Where was it? Where was the—

Steve sat up with a jerk, breath coming fast through clenched teeth, heart pounding as his mind cycled through the same thoughts over and over again. _Tony needed him, Tony needed him_ , and _where was the phone_? For a disorienting minute, Steve couldn’t tell where he was and what was going on, only knew he was gripped with panic. He tried to calm his frantic breathing as he looked around the small room through hazy eyes.

Wan daylight was pouring through the half-drawn curtains, illuminating the peeling brown wallpaper and the other rumpled, empty bed in the room. Steve blinked blearily at it, absently realizing that his shirt was damp with cold sweat, although his pulse was finally slowing down. He looked over at the bedside table, and there lay the phone, exactly where he left it last night.

Steve almost flinched when the bathroom door opened.

“Hey,” Sam said with a yawn, coming out with a towel around his neck. “It’s rare that you wake later than I do, but I thought I’d let you sleep in. You need to rest more.”

Steve scrubbed both hands over his face, trying to shake off the remnants of the unsubtle dream. “Yeah, thanks. I needed it, I think.”

“Yeah, you need more beauty sleep to catch up with the rest of us lookers,” Sam said with a grin, settling down on his bed and lifting his duffel bag from the floor.

“I don’t think I can catch up at this point,” Steve said with a smile, running a hand over the beard he was growing. “I’ll accept my role as the homely guy who doesn’t shave in the group.”

Sam chuckled. “Yeah, sure, _you_ look like a homely guy.”

Kicking of the blankets tangled around his legs, Steve got off the bed and picked up the flip phone before heading for the bathroom. He noticed that Sam looked conspicuously at the phone in Steve’s hand, but he seemed to decide not to say anything. Steve was glad, he didn’t think he could handle any difficult conversations this morning.

When the door was closed behind him, leaving Steve alone in a tiny bathroom that didn’t give him much room to move around in, he finally allowed himself to look down at the phone. He flipped it open and checked the usual functions. No new messages, it had a full charge and a full reception.

Steve sighed and flipped the phone shut, putting it on the side of the sink. He used the toothbrush and toothpaste he had unpacked last night and started his morning ritual. Once his mouth was rinsed, he looked at his beard with indifference. He touched the dark edge of his jaw and wondered if he needed to get a trim soon.

When the phone chirped once and vibrated, Steve’s hand jerked so hard with shock that he almost knocked the phone to the grimy tiled floor. He grabbed the phone, fumbled it, before he managed to flip it open. He selected the envelope icon.

Tony: _Two months away from new york’s influence and you turn into a mountain man?_

Steve startled at the random question, sent from Tony as if it was in continuation to an existing conversation. He looked up into the small mirror above the sink. His hair was getting long, falling in his face now when he didn’t slick it back. The facial hair had gone beyond unshaven stubble to a full beard. He thought he looked… tired. That was all he could read from the reflection in front of him. Tired, and maybe a little surprised.

He wondered if he should ask Tony how he knew what Steve looked like, but then figured that it probably wasn’t very hard for F.R.I.D.A.Y. to keep track of their movements and pull images of them through various security or traffic feeds. That kind of question would probably put Tony on a defensive anyway, and it wasn’t like Steve actually minded that Tony kept an eye on them, so he didn’t need to know exactly how Tony was doing it. They were trying to keep away from the authorities, not Tony and his A.I.s. If Tony was the one after them, there would be no point in hiding. 

Steve looked back to the phone and typed a response.

Steve: _Thought I would try a new look. What do you think?_

He didn’t really know what else to say.

Tony: _I think I’_ _m surprised_

Before Steve could write a response, there was another message. It was a photo of DUM-E with a familiar red, blue and white shield hanging off his single arm. Steve was taken aback, but before he could even think about it, another message came in.

Tony: _dum-e’s got a new look too  
_ Tony: _He’s a fightbot now_

Steve snorted, surprising himself with the sound in the small bathroom. He smiled and looked at the photo of DUM-E again. It felt bittersweet. Seeing the shield and DUM-E sent a pang of longing through him. He had fought for so long with the shield on his arm, a constant presence, that he would be lying if he said he didn’t miss it. And he missed DUM-E as well, the way the inquisitive robot was always excited to see him, the way DUM-E would mess up Tony’s instructions and hang his head sadly, only to be cheered up again just because Tony rolled his eyes at the bot.

Steve knew the photo was Tony’s way of reaching out and felt some weight lift off his shoulders at the realization that regardless of their past, Tony was still willing to talk. Oh, he recognized that Tony was pushing buttons at the same time. Tony wouldn’t have missed that including a photo of the shield could cause awkward conversations, but it wouldn’t be Tony unless he was testing the boundaries.

At this point, Steve would take what he could get.

Steve: _DUM-E will do a good job, I’m sure_

There was a short pause before Steve received another message. It was another photo, this time one of the shield on the floor and DUM-E trying forlornly to pick it up with his claws.

Tony: _dum-e dropped the shield even though I sticky taped it to him_  
Tony: _His career as a fightbot is coming to an end_

Steve: _He probably prefers his career as your helper in the workshop_

Steve stared at the phone for awhile, but no other messages came in. He suspected that this was an indication of how future conversations would go, where Tony sent casual messages, but avoided any other topic that might be too personal. Steve rubbed a hand against his bearded cheek, sighing. 

Then he reread the messages again. He would keep the phone close, just in case Tony sent him a response at some point.

# # # # # #

Nowadays, the hardest part of the missions was the aftermath.

They had shut down drug smuggling ring, based on information provided to them by Nakia. It was a successful mission by any measure, with no injuries or loss of equipment. There had been backslapping, exchanged banter and triumphant grins.

And now that the mission was over, it was time for the trip back to nowhere, because they had no home to go back to. It was only to the next obscure little town where they could blend in.

Natasha was in the pilot seat this time, flying the quinjet that Steve and Bucky had stolen at the Leipzig airport almost six months ago now. With such a small crew, they all took turns ensuring they were familiar with flying the quinjet, although Sam was still the most proficient at it. For this flight, Sam sat in the co-pilot’s seat and performed checks on Red Hawk, going through his post-mission routine. Wanda sat cross-legged on the floor in the back of the quinjet with Steve, her eyes closed as she meditated. It was a practice she had learned from Youtube and had said it helped with control over her powers. 

Steve had his own routine these days, although it happened before _and_ after missions. And during as well sometimes. And in bed. And in the bathroom. Alright, it happened all the time now.

He flipped the phone open and stared at the screen. Full charge and full signal. He still kept the phone plugged to the socket on the quinjet’s wall, wanting to ensure the phone kept its full charge. He went through screens on the phone until he found the messages, rereading them again. They were the messages exchanged four months ago with Tony, that casual, random conversation that didn’t touch on anything serious or go anywhere important. Four months ago… It had been radio silence since.

“I still can’t believe this was the only tech you accepted from T’Challa,” Sam said as he walked to the back of the quinjet and sat down next to Steve on the bench.

“It’s the only one I need,” Steve said as he flipped the phone shut and rested it on his thigh, trying to stave off the conversation he knew was coming.

“I don’t know, I think you could have used something like, maybe, a new _shield_ ,” Sam pointed out.

Steve sighed. “I don’t need one, and I fight just fine without one.”

“Some kind of weapon couldn’t hurt,” Wanda murmured, her eyes still closed.

“Even a better communications device. Some of those fancy bead things they’ve got,” Sam pointed out.

“What about a new uniform?” Natasha called from the front. “I think the King of Wakanda could have gotten you something new and less… ragged. It’s been almost six months of hard use, Steve.”

He remembered the evening in Tony’s workshop, holding his arms out as F.R.I.D.A.Y. projected a hologram of the new suit over his body while Tony walked around him, pointing out the places on his suit that had underarmor, talking about the material that was durable but still allowed for flexibility. Tony had retired from the team at that point, so the only contact Steve had with Tony by then was when Tony was making something new for them or the occasional meals they shared.

The suit fit Steve perfectly, like a well-padded second skin. It was comfortable but strong, provided protection from gunshots, fire, acid, everything Tony could think of and fit in Captain America’s uniform without adding too much bulk to the clothing. Maybe Steve wasn’t Captain America anymore, and he couldn’t wear the Captain America colours or the star and stripes because that was too conspicuous. But he couldn’t let go of the suit that Tony had made for him either.

“I mean, the whole bearded look goes well with the emo outfit,” Sam chimed in, shooting Steve a worried look. “But the uniform is looking a little worn, man. And your D.I.Y. black dye job on the suit is getting patchy. It just looks… sad.”

Well, Steve was a little sad some days. So why couldn’t his once-Captain-America uniform look sad too?

Steve decided it was time to nip this conversation in the bud. He shook his head and looked Sam in the eye. “Back in my day, we didn’t need special hi-tech suits to fight. We wore whatever we had on our backs and went at it with one shot pistols and bare fists.”

Sam groaned. “You need to stop pulling that trick out of your bag when you want to stop having a conversation. You were well beyond one shot pistols in the forties.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve said solemnly. “Do you want to hear more about how the greatest generation used to do things around here, not like how you young whippersnappers are always relying on your newfangled doodads?”

“Oh god, just stop.” Wanda finally opened her eyes, laughing while shaking her head at him.

“I can’t believe you just called us whippersnappers,” Sam said in awe.

From the pilot’s seat, Natasha only sighed. Steve knew she was judging him, but at the same time, she wouldn’t push him to talk. She knew that wasn’t a method that worked with him.

They decided to stop in a midsized town in England to take a break for a few days, picking a slightly less rundown motel this time for their stay. Steve mentally conceded that Sam did raise a good point earlier, so the moment he found the opportunity, Steve filled the bathtub in his motel room’s bathroom with black dye he got at the shop.

Natasha walked in on Steve slipping his uniform into the bathtub full of black dye and said, “Out of everything we said on the quinjet, the patchy dye job on your suit is what you’re going to address?”

“I don’t want to do things halfway, that includes patchy dye jobs on my suits,” Steve said in a light tone, not looking up, as he pulled on heavy duty gloves so he could get his hands into the bathtub as well. And maybe because he felt bad for constantly pushing all of them away, he admitted quietly, “It’s the only thing I can do something about.”

“It’s really not.” She stood there behind him, as if waiting to see if he would respond to that. When he didn’t, she sighed. “We’re heading out for dinner in ten minutes.” Then she walked back out into Steve and Sam’s shared room.

They just didn’t get it.

Steve let himself look down at the suit, really consider what he was doing. He knew he didn’t want to talk to Natasha and Sam about how he felt, because talking about it just made it real in a way he couldn’t deal with, because there was nothing he could actually do to deal with it.

He hadn’t realized what he had lost until it was gone. He hadn’t realized the depth of his feelings for Tony, until he realized how deeply he had hurt Tony, until the point where there might be no going back. Once the fight was over, once Bucky was safe in Wakanda, the realization that Steve couldn’t go home, couldn’t see Tony and all their other friends again had enveloped him in a deep gloom that was only lifted with periodic missions.

So what if his suit was torn up and patchy black and looked sad. It seemed only fitting.

# # # # # #

Steve stared up at the pockmarked ceiling, listening to Sam’s snores. Turning on his side, he pulled out the phone from under his pillow and opened it. He navigated to the latest messages.

It was almost a year since what had happened in Siberia and in that time, Steve had exchanged just a few neutral messages with Tony, messages of no consequences. Yet, he couldn’t help but value every single one of those messages, reread them daily even though they were already burned into his memory.

Tony: _I like the black on black look. very gothic, much gloom._

That was all Tony had written. Not knowing what else to say at that time, Steve had written an awkward reply.

Steve: _Thank you_  
Steve: _I like your new jogging outfit_

So maybe Steve had taken to soaking up every bit of news he could find on Tony. And he had found it strange that Tony had been photographed several times in a zip-up hoodie and loose pants, something that looked to be a jogging outfit. As far as Steve knew, Tony tended to do his exercise indoors, in his state of the art gym. He didn’t tend to go around outside the tower in exercise gear, stating before that he didn’t need to give the paparazzi more photographic fodder of him sweating and out of breath. He had looked good regardless, because Tony could look good in anything, but it had been unusual.

Tony: _Thanks. I’m trying something new_

Steve: _I’ve never seen you go jogging outside the tower before_

Tony: _Now that there aren’t so many superheroes jogging around new york, I gotta help make up the quota_

Steve: _So you’re going to jog 10 miles?_

Tony: _I jogged 10 meters. i think i’m done for the day_

Steve: _Yeah, better let the old bones rest up_

Tony: _90 yr olds are not allowed to make references to old bones_

Steve: _It was just advice from one old man to another :)_

That was the last exchange they had, which happened almost more than two months ago. The banter had lifted his spirits, made him smile every time he reread it. But Tony hadn’t responded to that last message and Steve wondered if he had offended Tony, or if he had seemed overly friendly after everything that happened.

Steve didn’t want to pester Tony, didn’t want to force Tony to deal with him, but he was starting to wonder if he could go on like this, with this uncertain friendship between them. Was the occasional message like this enough for the rest of their days?

There didn’t seem to be anything left to lose in trying to reach out to Tony again, in broaching subjects that they hadn’t been tiptoeing around so much as orbiting around those subjects from thousands and thousands of miles away.

Steve opened one of the draft messages that he had typed but never sent. Not letting himself think about it anymore, perhaps partially driven by the late hour when all ideas seemed like good ideas, Steve pressed ‘Send’.

Steve: _Not telling you about your parents was the worst thing I have knowingly done in my life_  
Steve: _I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Tony._

These messages were the hardest thing to say, to bare his vulnerable side to Tony when he knew Tony must still be carrying some measure of anger, and he knew Tony could be very cutting when he wanted to be. Steve had written the message on the very first day he got the phone, but had never sent it because he wasn’t sure Tony wanted to hear it from him then. And maybe Tony still didn’t want to hear it from him now, but it was too late to do anything about it.

Steve fell asleep with an almost fatalistic calm, a certainty that he had made things worse somehow, but with calm acceptance that he had already committed the action.

The next morning, he woke with his hand curled loosely around the phone. He turned the phone to look at its screen, but there was nothing. No new messages.

Steve didn’t hear back from Tony for weeks. 

He alternated between throwing himself into missions and just lying in bed, staring at the flip phone. Sam muttered dire comments about Captain America turning into a teenage emo kid, but Steve had just ignored him. He was too sad for banter.

Life went on, even if the others periodically made comments about Steve ‘McMopey’ Rogers. They continued carrying out missions, most of them successful.

But not all of them went smoothly.

This time, the mission went sideways right from the start when their team accidentally landed themselves in the middle of a gang war. They had been looking to shut down a weapons-smuggling ring that was using A.I.M.’s questionable research to produce highly lethal and unpredictable weapons. They had turned up at the warehouse in the middle of the afternoon, expecting to take out a few guards, and ended up walking in on an attempted coup. The gang were shooting at each other _and_ at their team. Natasha and Wanda were on the other side of the warehouse, hiding behind a large pillar, while Steve and Sam were sheltering behind some crates.

There was shouting and the occasional gunshots as well as strange green energy blasts that seemed to set things on fire randomly.

Not that Steve really cared about any of that.

“Are you seriously looking at your phone right now?” Sam asked, incredulous.

A few gunshots rang out deafeningly above them, followed by the ominous sound of energy weapons charging up.

When Steve had felt the vibration coming from the pouch on his belt, he hadn’t hesitated to pull out the phone. He wasn’t going to ignore it now just because of some trigger-happy weapons smugglers.

“It might be important,” Steve said absently, ignoring the flying bullets and energy blasts being exchanged as he read the messages.

Tony: _the thing is i didn’t expect that from you_  
Tony: _thought for all ur flaws, you were inherntly a good person_  
Tony: _you would nver do anything 2 knowingly hurt someone_  
Tony: _so ws it just me?_  
Tony: _you just didnt give a shit about me?_  
Tony: _i wasn’t important enough to be told something like that?_

“And now you’re typing a response, oh my god,” Sam cried out.

Steve’s fingers flew over the little flip phone’s keyboard as he ignored Sam.

Steve: _I care about you, Tony. You’re important to me._  
Steve: _I didn’t tell you because of me. I messed up._

That sounded confusing _and_ idiotic. Steve had no idea if it made sense, if Tony would get his meaning. He was trying so hard to put into words the tangled knot of emotions inside of him that had resulted in those terrible decisions he had made, which weren’t made any easier by the gunshots, shouting and random objects exploding into flames nearby. Steve tried to focus on what was important anyway.

Steve: _The issue isn’t with you, it was with me.  
_ Steve: _I was too afraid to face the truth and face what they had done to Bucky_

A ricocheting bullet scraped Steve’s arm, missing the flip phone by inches, and causing Steve to accidentally send the incomplete message.

“That’s it,” Steve snarled, closing the flip phone with care and putting it into the small pouch on his belt again. He was going to deal with all the distractions. “Stay behind me, Sam.”

Steve braced against the crate they had been hiding behind and shoved forward with all his strength. The crate propelled forward with a sudden burst of movement and he kept pushing, running behind the crate and using it as a very large shield as he charged at the group of gang members closest to them. Bullets and energy blasts were shot towards the crate, most of them missing entirely. A stray energy blast hit the corner of the crate and it went up in flames. But that was okay, because Steve was almost... 

He rammed straight into the stacked crates that the gang members were hiding behind, causing a lot of the crates to topple over onto screaming men, and spreading the fire from the crate he was using as a shield to the other crates. Steve leapt over the now burning crate, easily climbed and leapt over the gang’s makeshift barricade, and landed within their ranks.

He took the men down with his fists, and when necessary, picked up their dropped guns and used those too. Sam came in behind him, taking out any remaining stragglers who escaped Steve’s wrath. This was all delaying Steve from going back to what was really important, and that really annoyed him. When all the gang members behind the barricade were down, Steve looked out towards the remaining gang members on the other side of the warehouse. It looked like Natasha had driven a forklift into that group and Wanda had used her powers to drop crates onto them, handily taking them out.

“What took you guys so long?” Natasha asked, pinning a guy to the ground and zip-tying him.

“Steve took a break to send some messages on his— And he’s back at it again. Seriously, Steve?”

Steve had to force his grip to relax, to not crack the precious phone in his hand as he read the messages Tony had sent while Steve had been distracted by idiots with guns.

Tony: _its always bout bucky_  
Tony: _thats the real reason ist it?_  
Tony: _you didn’t care whatit would do to me_  
Tony: _just what it meant about buky_

The words clawed at Steve from the inside. The idea that Tony, who always had a glib quip and a sharp smile to distract anyone who were out to hurt him, the idea that Tony was writing all this and sending it out caused a visceral hurt in Steve.

He took a deep breath and painstakingly typed out the responses even as he told himself that it wasn’t too late, that he had to try.

Steve: _I’m sorry, something happened. I hadn’t finished typing._  
Steve: _I couldn’t face what they had done to Bucky and to your family. To face what they had done to you  
_ Steve: _At first, I didn’t have all the facts for what Bucky and Hydra did, just a lot of guesses. I thought there would be time for me to find out what really happened and I could wait to find the best time and way to tell you._

Steve took a deep breath, trying to find a way to phrase the words without sounding like he thought this excused what he did. In the end, he just had to go with his honest emotion, even though he struggled with expressing that openly.

Steve: _It was never because I didn’t care. I really messed up, avoiding the truth. I pushed it away and ignored it because I didn’t want to face it_  
Steve: _I didn’t want you to hate me. For still wanting to save Bucky_. _I was a coward and I was afraid to face the truth_

It hurt to say and it was almost incoherent, a jumble of emotion laid bare. But it had to be said. Not telling Tony was the most cowardly thing Steve had ever done. And it had cost him almost everything.

Steve sank down onto the warehouse floor, surrounded by groaning and tied up gang members, staring at his phone.

There was no answer.

# # # # # #

The next day, Steve’s eyes opened when he felt a vibration from under his pillow. He immediately came wide awake and pulled the flip phone out.

Tony: _Next time, wait until AFTER the gunfight to message me back_

Steve frowned. Natasha must have ratted him out to Tony; he knew that out of all of the others, she still kept in touch with Tony. Steve didn’t want Tony to worry about when to send him text messages, but at the same time, he felt a little squirming enjoyment at the idea that Tony still cared enough to worry about him. It had to mean something, that there was some opportunity still for them to mend bridges.

Steve: _It was important. I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t going to reply to you_

The response came almost instantly, like the words poured straight from Tony’s brain onto Steve’s phone.

Tony: _I know how text messaging works, i wouldn’t have been waiting by my phone, crying when there’s no instant replies_

Steve smiled at the hyperbole, and couldn’t help tease him in turn.

Steve: _Is that how text messaging works? No one told me. I’ve been crying by my phone all this time._

It wasn’t too far from the truth, but he hoped Tony took it as a joke and that he got a smile out of it.

Tony: _Look, there’s only room for one smartass in this discussion and that’s me_

Steve: _I’ve been a smartass since the 40s. So I was here first._

Tony: _you can’t keep claiming seniority when it’_ _s convenient._

Steve was still typing out a reply when another message came from Tony.

Tony: _I’m sorry_

Steve blinked in surprise at his screen. He deleted his original message and was typing a new one, although he wasn’t sure what to say, when his phone received another message.

Tony: _i wouldn’t have said all those things I said yesterday if I hadn’t been a little tipsy  
_ Tony: _But since we’re talking about it, we might as well go full hog_

Steve’s pulse quickened, even though this was exactly what he wanted, to have a conversation with Tony that actually meant something.

Steve: _Okay, let’s talk._

Tony: _First off, enough with how you were a coward and it was the worst thing you ever did blah blah, it’s giving me hives. you fucked up, congratulations, welcome to the rest of the human race_  
Tony: _and I know I fucked up too. Fucking zemo. I know i played into his hands and that still annoys me some days.  
_ Tony: _ok, when I said sorry, what I meant was that I’m sorry I went after Bucky. I lost it. I was so angry at him._

There was a pause, and Steve wondered if that was it, if Tony was done. Then the messages came in fast, one after another.

Tony: _angry at you too. at that time_  
Tony: _it was like I went insane. I just remember the anger and despair. i don’t remember everything_  
Tony: _i watched the recordings from the Iron Man suit and I can’t believe_  
Tony: _The things we all did. the things I did too._  
Tony: _it’_ _s no excuse_

Steve wished he was there in front of Tony, that he could look Tony in his eyes and read his emotions. He wanted to tell Tony that he agreed, that they both fucked up; he wanted to apologize again because he felt like his mistakes had hurt Tony on a more personal level. He wished he was there so he could pull Tony close and ease the pain he could read in those words, the same pain he felt. But he only had this flip phone cradled in his hand. He squeezed his eyes shut, and then forced them open again. No time for a breakdown and for regrets. He gave up trying to navigate the minefield of their conversation and just tapped out what he felt.

Steve: _We were all played by Zemo, right from the very start._  
Steve: _Then you found out in the worst way possible after everything kept going wrong_  
Steve: _I’m sorry it happened that way. That’s on me._

Tony: _Yeah, maybe. But my reaction is on me, not you._

While true, Steve still wanted to say something about how in retrospect, Zemo had strung them along like puppets, had studied them, and twisted at pressure points until he got the results he wanted, setting up whole chains of events just to get that final outcome. But before he could even frame the words for a message, Tony sent another message.

Tony: _Ok, let’s not fight over our fight_

That was a good point. Did they really want to end up arguing and fighting over who was most responsible for what happened?

Steve: _I can do that._  

Tony: _Alright good. we’re finally in agreement_

Steve: _Where does that leave us?_

Maybe it wasn’t fair that Steve asked that. Their situation wasn’t simple or straightforward. But he needed to know, needed to know if Tony was willing to try, needed to know if there was any remnants of friendship he could salvage.

Tony: _tbh, I don’t know_  
Tony: _I need some time to think_  
Tony: _I think maybe you do too_  
Tony: _but I’m tired of being angry. Let’s start there._

Steve closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He couldn’t expect miracles and he should be happy he wasn’t getting a straight rejection. He responded.

Steve: _Sounds like a good starting point. I’m up for it._

# # # # # #

They exchanged more text messages after that, although they still went days, if not weeks, between messages. Steve asked after Rhodey’s recovery. Tony asked after Natasha’s new hair color. They both discussed Vision and Wanda’s budding romance.

They sent mostly short messages that avoided potential hot zones.

Steve read and reread all those messages too. But the ones he kept coming back to were the angry and then reconciliatory messages.

“Are you still looking at the phone? I can’t sleep with its little lights on,” Sam complained from the other single bed in their dingy motel room. It felt like their lives were now a series of motel rooms and sleepovers on the quinjet.

Steve closed the flip phone and slipped it under his pillow. “Just checking the time.”

“It’s time to sleep, Steve,” Sam mumbled into his pillow.

“Alright, alright. Good night, Sam.” Steve rolled over onto his side.

When Steve eventually heard Sam’s breathing evening out into sleep, Steve pulled the phone out from beneath the pillow and flipped it open.

He selected the messages and read them again. 

Steve didn’t get much sleep, but he didn’t need much of it, not since the serum. Staying up late to read past text messages and imagine potential conversations with Tony had become a common occurrence now. When he finally drifted off to sleep, it was dreamless and short-lived. His eyes fluttered open before the sun was even up and the room still looked dark when he peered around. Rather than stay in bed and mope, as Sam called it, Steve got out of bed early and went to brush his teeth.

Sam walked through the open bathroom door as Steve stood in front of the mirror, washing his face, wondering if he should trim his beard. Sam pointedly stared at the flip phone on the counter of the sink. It was sitting inside a ziplock bag, completely sealed. Ever since Steve almost dropped the phone into the toilet bowl, he had started putting the phone into a little ziplock bag of its own when he took it to the bathroom.

Steve turned around and wiped his face on a towel, muttering into the course fabric, “I just don’t want it to get wet.”

Sam pointed out, “I’m more disturbed that you felt the need to bring the phone into the bathroom with you, even just to brush your teeth.”

“But what if he called?” Steve asked, frowning at the idea of leaving the phone outside.

“Then you come outside and pick up the phone like a normal person,” Sam said.

Steve lowered the towel and thought about it. Then he shrugged. “It’s just habit to bring the phone in. I like playing Snake on the phone when I’m using the bathroom.”

“You play Snake while you’re sitting on the can? How do you even play on the phone through the ziplock bag?” asked Sam, incredulous.

“Do you want me to show you?” Steve asked with an earnest expression.

“You know what, I don’t want to know,” Sam grumbled as he turned around and stormed out.

That was easily settled. Sam seemed to be snappier and snappier these days. Steve wondered why as he picked up the phone and left the bathroom.

# # # # # #

“It’s good to see you again,” Natasha said with a wide smile, handing over a large plastic cup with a lid over it, and the round green Starbucks logo on the side of the cup. “I brought you a gift.”

“I don’t know why you insist on giving me these disgustingly sweet concoctions pretending to be coffee,” Okoye said with a grimace, but Steve noticed that she quickly took the drink from Natasha. “T’Challa will see you later at dinner. He’s caught up with M’Baku right now.”

“Arguing about politics?” Sam asked.

“Wrestling like children,” Okoye said with an expressive eye-roll.

Wanda waved her hand and a shot of red magic pulled her duffel bag out from inside the quinjet and she caught the bag in a tight grip. “Can we watch? And maybe take photos?”

Sam muttered, “I’m telling Vision.”

“He would understand. He’s seen photos of M’Baku,” she said with a shrug and an unrepentant grin.

Steve was standing to the side, shading his eyes as he looked down from the little plateau where they had landed their quinjet at the edge of the Wakandan city. Further down the gently rolling hills were little huts clustered together, and he thought he could see a man walking among the goats on the green grass, a familiar figure with dark cloth draped over one side of his body, obscuring a missing arm.

“Yes, that’s Bucky down there,” Okoye said, answering his unspoken question. “Will we see you later for dinner?”

Steve turned back to her and smiled. “Yeah. I’ll catch you guys later.”

He met Natasha’s eyes, and she nodded in silent agreement.

When Bucky had been awoken from cryogenics, Steve had been there, holding his hand and easing him into consciousness. When they started the process of erasing the trigger words brainwashed into his mind, Steve had been there, holding Bucky’s hand through it, even as Bucky almost cracked his bones with the strength of his grip.

Now, almost two years later after everything that had happened with Zemo, Bucky was out of cryogenics full time now. And Steve wasn’t there, couldn’t be there all the time, but it was okay, because Bucky had a whole network of support. He had gone through five advanced reconditioning sessions to unpick the brainwashing. T’Challa’s sister, Shuri, was convinced that the reversal of the brainwashing was a complete success. From all the testing they had done, by reciting the trigger words and trying to evoke traumatic memory, the cure seemed to be complete.

Steve walked across the sloping grassland, watching as Bucky came towards him as well, knowing that Bucky had probably spotted him the moment the quinjet landed. They met in the middle and Steve folded Bucky in a tight hug.

“I still need my ribs, Steve,” Bucky said with a gasp.

“You’ll heal,” Steve said, pulling back with a slap to his back and a smile.

“Doesn’t mean I want to have to heal.” Bucky gripped Steve on one shoulder and looked him up and down. “You don’t look so good.”

Steve sighed. “Thanks, Bucky. Just what a fella wants to hears.”

“No, really, you look like you haven’t slept much. And there are holes in your uniform. Is the seam coming apart?”

Not wanting to hear another lecture on getting new gear and throwing away his old stuff, Steve shrugged and pulled away. “I’m going to take a shower. You have clothes I can wear? I would prefer not to wear tactical gear for the next couple days here.”

“Nah, can’t loan you my clothes, that’s just asking for too much. A man has to draw the line somewhere,” Bucky said with a grin.

“What’s that? I can just take what I want from your closet? Thanks, Buck, you’re the best,” Steve said, as if Bucky hadn’t said anything.

Steve was smiling as he walked into the hut, followed by a chuckling Bucky.

Outside, the hut looked rustic, made out of wood and straw, held together with dried gray mud. That was a camouflage for all the technology kitted up inside the huts. It still looked like the outer walls were made of wood and straw, but they were all joined together almost seamlessly. There was a lush carpet that was heated for cold nights, warm recess lighting on the walls, and a large flat screen TV that dominated the little living room.

Steve was familiar enough with the place that he made his way easily enough to the small bedroom. Bucky shooed him into the shower, saying he would lay out clothes for Steve to wear. Desperate to get a shower, Steve quickly pulled out the flip phone from his pocket and slipped it into a ziplock bag he had extracted from his backpack. He left his backpack by the bathroom door and went in with the bagged phone in hand.

After long days in rundown motel rooms with shower stalls barely big enough to fit him, Steve luxuriated in the almost scalding hot shower he took under the torrent of water spraying downwards from the ceiling. There was no pipe or hose; it was like a small part of the ceiling was just raining water down onto him at the touch of a hand against a small panel on the wall. Steve lathered up with the soap that Bucky had used, that had been provided to Bucky because he still preferred a bar soap over shower gel. Steve felt the same way.

Steve remembered how Tony had accommodated him similarly, once upon a time, although in a more over-the-top style. His bathrooms at the Avengers tower had been stocked with a variety of soaps, from bar to liquid to foam. Whatever existed, it was there. Then when Steve gravitated towards the bar soaps, they were restocked with a variety of scents, feel and make. By the time Steve moved into the Avengers compound further upstate instead, his favorite bar soap of choice was always stocked there. 

“Hey, Steve, here’s your clothes,” Bucky called out. There was a short pause, before Bucky continued, “I see Sam wasn’t exaggerating about how you always take the phone with you into the bathroom.”

The shower stall’s walls were glazed, so he couldn’t see Bucky’s expression, but from Bucky’s slightly amused tone, he could picture it. Probably an exasperated smile combined with laughing blue-gray eyes for when he thought Steve was doing something stupid. Again.

“It’s the modern day now, Buck. People always bring their phones into bathrooms,” Steve tried.

“Uh huh. That sounds like bullshit,” Bucky said, before leaving the bathroom.

Well, it had been worth an attempt. Steve went back to soaping his back and shoulders, humming low in the large shower stall, enjoying how he didn’t have to worry about bumping elbows against walls. 

# # # # # #

Steve padded out into the cool evening air, dressed in a loose white T-shirt and pale blue sleep pants. His hair was still wet and his cheeks were warm from the heat of his shower. He had worn the spare slippers in the bedroom, even though his feet were a little too large for them. As a born and bred city boy, he wasn’t going to go around outside in barefeet, even if he was reluctant to put his combat boots back on.

He found Bucky on a bench by the hut, sitting and looking out over a small stretch of grasslands bordering a snaking silvery river. Steve sat down beside Bucky, taking in the idyllic scene and wondering if he could capture this best with oils or watercolor.

Bucky reached out and tapped the phone in Steve’s hand. “I see you didn’t leave it behind.”

The clothes that Bucky had left for Steve lacked pockets, which Steve now suspected had been picked on purpose.

“No point having a phone if I’m not around to pick up,” Steve said, trying to sound casual.

But it was no use trying to fool Bucky.

“You can stop pretending, punk,” Bucky said with a sharp shake of his head. “What’s really going on in that head of yours?”

Steve bent over, resting his elbows on his knees, and looked down at the phone he had in hand. He flipped it open and navigated to the messages using the rubber buttons, the movement so familiar that he could do this with his eyes closed.

“I told him if he ever needed me, I would be there. I’m not breaking my promise to him.” Steve brushed his thumb against the edge of the screen, aching with the thought that he would let Tony down, again.

“Not after what happened in Siberia,” Bucky said, blunt, direct.

Steve looked up from the phone, looked to the side to meet Bucky’s sad eyes. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I know that.” But Bucky was shaking his head even as he said it. “Doesn’t change how I feel about it.”

That, Steve understood perfectly. 

“Tony and I talked about Siberia. We both apologized. He said he was sorry about—”

Bucky must have known what Steve was about to say, because he cut him off with a wave of his metal hand. “What happened between Tony and I, that’s gonna be solved between Tony and I. You need to focus on what happened between the two of you. And I gotta say, it’s fucked up but from everything I’ve heard, I think Tony’s issue with me is gonna be easier to solve than his issue with you.”

Steve smiled. “Accurate assessment of the situation.”

“I got perspective, you know, as the best sniper around,” Bucky said with a hint of his once cocksure grin.

Steve took in Bucky’s smile, let himself bask in the sight of Bucky’s recovery, memorizing the look for when he had a sketchbook. Then he remembered that he hadn’t drawn anything since Siberia.

These days, he only wanted to hold the flip phone, not a pencil.

“What’s with that look?” Bucky asked. 

To Steve’s own surprise, he answered the question honestly.

“I miss him. I didn’t know I would miss him so much.” The truth tumbled out of Steve’s mouth in a scrape of a whisper. He was only able to be this honest with his feelings because it was Bucky, and he could tell Bucky anything.

Steve didn’t know when he had looked back down at the phone in his hands, now an instinctive reassuring action, until he felt Bucky grip his wrist, giving him a little shake. Steve looked back up at Bucky, and watched as Bucky searched his face.

“Oh, you got it bad, Steve,” Bucky said with brimming sympathy and almost disbelief. “You have the worst timing in all of history. You only realized afterwards?”

Steve could only nod, not trusting his voice.

Bucky sighed and released his grip. Steve watched him, wondering how he would take it. Bucky had always known that Steve liked women _and_ men, had caught him in the act with both more than once, so that wasn’t going to be the problem. But this was _Tony_ , and even if Steve had no chance with him, he wanted Bucky to be okay with it.

Bucky only smiled again, wryly this time. “You sure know how to make things hard for yourself.”

“Builds character,” Steve said through a lump in his throat, leaning back against the bench and letting the phone rest on his thigh.

“I mean, I guess he’s good-looking, and I heard he’s a billionaire. So you’re aiming pretty high,” Bucky mused aloud.

“Yeah, that’s exactly why I picked him,” Steve said with a laugh, shaking his head.

Bucky turned on the bench so he could look Steve in the eye. “So why did you pick him then?”

Steve sighed, shrugged. “I don’t know, Buck. It just… happened. He’s a good man, one of the best. He never gives up, even when he thinks the weight of the world is on him. The way he looked at me sometimes, with those eyes of his, I just think… Sometimes I _couldn’t_ think.”

“Okay, I don’t know if I want to hear you wax poetic about Stark,” Bucky interrupted. “I don’t think I thought that question through.”

“Like I didn’t hear you wax poetic about all the gals you took dancing,” Steve said, nudging Bucky with his elbow.

“Yeah, but I was _better_ at it.”

“You keep telling yourself that.”

They grinned at each other, enjoying the banter. For the first time in days, Steve felt less gloomy about life.

Bucky started rummaging through his pockets all of a sudden. Then he triumphantly pulled out a slim box the size of his hand and presented it to Steve. “Shuri asked me to give this to you. She said something about it being made of vibranium and molded exactly to specs.”

Steve suspected he knew what it was and thought about opening it later. But Bucky was nosy enough that he would keep pestering Steve until Steve told him what it was anyway.

Sighing, Steve opened the box. In it lay a small blue case, plain except for a little red, blue and white shield painted onto its back.

Bucky frowned. “Is that a…”

Steve picked up the blue case and slipped his flip phone into it.

“It’s a phone case,” Steve explained, pre-empting any more questions. “There’s been a few close calls where the phone was almost hit by a bullet or some kind of weapon. The case is just to keep it safe.”

“Let me get this straight. You got a little shield made for the phone, even though you refuse to accept a replacement shield from T’Challa _for yourself_?” Bucky asked, sounding increasingly incredulous.

“It’s not a shield for the phone. Shuri probably just thought it would be funny to draw—”

“It’s made of _vibranium_ , Steve.”

Steve sighed. “Yeah, okay, it’s a shield for the phone.”

Bucky looked Steve in the eye, and asked in a serious tone, “How are you more fucked up than an ex-brainwashed assassin?”

Steve let out a bark of laughter, before grinning at Bucky. “As you always said, Buck, I’m just stubborn that way.”

“That’s an understatement,” Bucky said, rolling his eyes.

Steve smiled and tilted his head back to look at the darkening sky, at the slowly setting sun that turned the sky into a blaze of vermillion against violet.

He wondered where Tony was right now, if he was looking at a sunrise instead of a sunset, the inverse of Steve’s situation.

# # # # # #

“Ready to head out?” Natasha asked as she walked into Steve’s bedroom in the spare hut next to Bucky’s where Steve usually stayed when he came to visit.

“Yeah, just making sure the phone is charged.” Steve checked the charge on the flip phone and unplugged it from the charger when he confirmed it was full. These guest huts had international power sockets set up, just for Steve’s team. As far as he understood it, Wakandans didn’t even use wall power outlets like this.

Natasha looked over the desk where Steve had set everything up. Steve could tell she was judging him by the narrowed eyes and her folded arms. He tried to see it from her perspective, and realized that there was a possibility that it was a little strange to have six power banks charging at the same time.

“Steve, you know you can charge your phone on the quinjet, and in all the motels we stop over when we feel like sleeping in a bed.”

Steve didn’t meet her gaze as he slipped the phone into his pocket, and started unplugging everything from the wall outlets so that he could pack them away.

“It’s just in case we end up on a long mission without a way to charge the phone,” Steve said.

There was a short silence, and then finally, Natasha came forward and laid a hand on Steve’s elbow, stopping him from coiling up the cables and avoiding her gaze. “Why do you have to be so weird?”

“It’s not weird to be prepared,” Steve said, setting his jaw.

Natasha shook her head. “You have power banks secreted all over the quinjet, spare ones in your bags _and_ our bags too. You carry that phone with you everywhere and that’s literal. You are definitely weird. And the problem is that’s not even the weirdest part.”

Steve was almost afraid to ask. “What’s the weirdest part then?”

“The weirdest part is how you’re just _waiting_.”

“I’m not. I send him—”

“You are. Those occasional messages you send aren’t what I mean. I mean why haven’t you told him how you feel? Why haven’t you told him that you miss the Avengers compound, that you miss the rest of your team… that you miss _him_?” Natasha asked as she looked him in the eye. “This is the weirdest part. The way you’re just waiting. The way you aren’t doing anything.”

“I… I don’t want to force him…”

“The reason why you both work is because you both push each other to greater heights. It’s not like you to just sit back and wait. You push for what you want. You have never taken the easy road. But now you’re lying around and taking long sad showers and dyeing your suit black as some sort of symbolism over someone who isn’t even here to see it.”

Steve wondered, suddenly, if Tony thought the same way. Did Tony expect Steve, who had never taken the easy road and never backed down from a challenge, to push him? Was he disappointed that Steve didn’t, taking it as some sign that Steve didn’t care that much?

It was a shocking thought, one that Steve had never considered before. The idea of it was painful, to think that he had been moping around all this time, trying not to push Tony and trying to give him space, while Tony might be thinking that Steve just wasn’t all that concerned about their situation. Maybe Tony even thought that Steve was enjoying himself, running around the planet and carrying out missions in whatever way he preferred. Steve drew in a deep breath, trying to slow his sudden spike in adrenaline, the urge to rectify the situation immediately.

“You’re right, Nat,” Steve said, feeling overheated, overwhelmed. “I need to call him. Right now.”

A loud trilling filled the air, and there was a strong vibration against his thigh. Steve looked down at his pants’ pocket.

The phone. It was ringing. Steve stared in confusion, had a strange moment of wondering whether the thoughts of calling Tony had manifested in this strange way. Then he shook his head, trying to get rid of his sudden confusing reverie.

“You had better take that,” Natasha said, voice suddenly strung tight.

Steve fumbled the phone out of his pocket, realizing that his hands were trembling and that there was a cold prickling breaking out on the back of his neck and forehead.

“Hello?” Steve said, sounding surprisingly steady despite how shaky he felt.

It was the first time he was hearing Tony’s voice, and Tony was saying, “Come back. All of you, even your BFF. We’ve got guests, and you’ll want to say hi.”

Steve made an absent mental note to ask Shuri if the replacement metal arm she had been building for Bucky was ready yet. Whatever was going down, Bucky would probably need it if he was going to come along into battle.

“Immediately?” Steve asked, reduced to single word responses as his thoughts churned with preparation plans competing with the rush of hearing Tony’s voice again.

“Yep, no time to waste. And don’t worry about your fugitive status. I’ll do something about Ross,” Tony said, flippant, like this would be a cake walk.

“What’s going on, Tony?” Steve asked as he tried to ignore his tripping heart and the sweat beading his hairline.

“No time to explain over the phone, just come back.” Tony sounded distracted, like he was multitasking. “And bring the cat prince and his cat guards.” Suddenly, he raised his voice, like he was talking to someone further away. “Hey, don’t pick that up. That’s not a toy and— I’ve got to go. See you stateside.”

Then he hung up.

This was it. This was why Steve gave Tony the phone, so he could be there when Tony needed him.

Why did he feel so disappointed? Why did he still ache for something more, to hear Tony’s voice again even though the call had just ended?

“Let’s go, we need to talk to T’Challa and get going,” Steve said, stuffing all the power banks and charger into a bag.

“Where are we going?” Natasha asked, sounding unsettled.

Steve looked up, feeling an aching longing in his chest, his throat tightening with want as he said, “ _Home_.”

# # # # # #

Sam was in the pilot seat this time, with Natasha in the co-pilot’s seat. Wanda sat in the back of the quinjet, her knee bouncing in excitement as she looked out the windows. She and Vision had been meeting up regularly, incognito, and they had been about to meet up in Edinburgh for another one of their secret rendezvous after the trip to Wakanda. The call from Tony for them to go back had disrupted that, but for the better. Wanda would get to see Vision again in the Avengers compound, and they didn’t have to hide anymore. Bucky sat beside Wanda on the bench, checking and rechecking his guns, looking up occasionally to give Steve an evaluating gaze but saying nothing.

Steve looked down at the flip phone that was charging from a port on the quinjet. It was fully charged, but he liked to make sure it stayed that way. There were no more new messages from Tony, and that made sense. They were about to meet up again, so there was no reason for Tony to start messaging him now. He still looked at the phone, checked the charge, checked the signal, and reread the old messages.

Sam spoke into the comms to the Wakandan plane following behind them, “We’re going to land first, Okoye. You can land on the lawn next to where I’m going to set down our quinjet.”

“Understood.” Okoye’s voice came through loud and clear from the speakers in the cockpit. “Is your Captain still looking at his phone?”

Steve snapped the flip phone shut by instinct, looking up to the front. He felt his ears warm, knew that he was probably blushing to the back of his neck. It was one thing to be teased by his team, it was quite another to be called out by one of the Dora Milaje.

“I don’t even need to look to know the answer is yes,” Sam said with a sigh.

“He hasn’t stopped since Wakanda,” Bucky announced, that rat.

“Tell him not to freeze when he sees Stark,” Okoye said, an obvious grin in her voice.

“I can hear you,” Steve said a little testily. 

Okoye was entirely unfazed. “Oh, then, don’t freeze, Rogers. It’s bad enough when T’Challa does it. We don’t need another antelope in headlights among the superheroes. We need more panthers, not antelopes.”

“I can hear you too,” T’Challa’s voice drifted in from the speakers, sounding resigned.

“I know you can, that’s the point,” Okoye said.

Natasha turned around in her chair and looked to the back of the quinjet at Steve. “Hear that, Steve? That sounds like good advice.”

Bucky snorted. “Since when does Steve take good advice?”

“I don’t freeze,” Steve said as he crossed his arms.

“That’s what I said as well,” T’Challa sighed.

Wanda was biting her lower lip, obviously trying hard not to laugh at him. Steve rolled his eyes and pretended he couldn’t hear their teasing anymore. He wasn’t going to freeze. He missed Tony, and he knew he was a little bit… ridiculous with the flip phone, what with it being his only connection left to Tony. He had discovered feelings for Tony right as things fell apart around them, so he got a little attached to the phone. That was all.

And this was Tony. He wanted to see Tony again, so he was anticipating this with an unexpected level of fervor, with clammy hands and a quickening pulse. He felt his stomach knot and wished they could land already so that he could see Tony.

He wasn’t going to freeze; he wanted this too much to freeze.

# # # # # #

The quinjet’s ramp lowered for them to walk down, and Steve froze.

There was Tony, standing on the paved ground that was adjacent to the circular landing pad. Steve was frozen in place at the sight, at finally seeing Tony there in the flesh after almost two years apart. A large bag was slung over one shoulder and he was wearing what looked to be a dark, close-fitting outfit that Steve had never seen before. Even from inside the quinjet, Steve could see Tony’s sharp gaze looking over them, a million thoughts going as he inspected each one of them and drew his own conclusions.

Then his gaze landed on Steve, dark brown eyes meeting Steve’s own.

Steve’s brain went silent, his whole body completely still, his breath inhaled and holding. Maybe even his heart had stopped beating, he had no idea. He was so focussed on Tony that everything else around them ceased to exist.

Tony’s mouth opened. “Steve.”

The rest of the world rushed back into place, brought back to life by Tony’s voice reaching his ears. Had Tony ever said Steve’s name like that? It was always jokes and nicknames from Tony, a barrier that Steve had been subconsciously pushing against all this time. He knew he would remember this moment, the way his name was shaped by Tony’s mouth, for the rest of his life.

“Hi, Tony,” he said, his voice sounding soft, too weak.

He tried to shake himself out of it, tried to force more words out, but before he could move, or say something else, anything else, he was jarred to the side as Bucky bumped into his shoulder. 

“Thought you weren’t going to freeze, punk,” Bucky murmured under his breath as he jostled by.

Steve shot a glare at Bucky’s back, but Bucky was already walking over to Tony. They looked at each other, exchanging glances.

“Barnes, let’s talk later,” Tony said, shaking his head. “There’s no time right now.”

Bucky nodded, his back straight and stiff, before walking on ahead with the others following after quickly. Wanda, Natasha and Sam all exchanged greetings with Tony, seemingly warm with no hard feelings from the events that the world called a superhero Civil War. Steve was surprised to see Clint, standing at the front door to the Avengers compound, exchanging embraces with Natasha and greeting the others heartily. Then his attention was drawn back to Tony.

Steve walked down the ramp slowly until he was only a couple feet apart from Tony. From up-close, Tony’s outfit was an even closer fit than Steve had thought earlier. Steve realized that his mouth felt dry, and he had to snap it shut, tried to swallow to get some moisture back in his throat.

He couldn’t help his eyes wandering down, taking in every line and lean muscle that was on display in this outfit. When did Tony ever dress like that? It was made of a thick black material that clung to Tony’s wide shoulders, with the pants of the outfit hugging the curve of his hips and thighs. Steve’s eye couldn’t help following the slightly embossed geometric lines that ran along the sides of the outfit, some of the lines lit up in a faint, familiar blue glow.

“Done admiring the goods?” Tony asked. He was smiling wryly, but his dark eyes flicked to the side before meeting Steve’s gaze again. Was that uncertainty that Steve saw?

“Your new suit is, uh, tight,” Steve said, almost a stutter.

Oh god, was that really what he just said? Was the first real conversation, one that was carried out in person instead of over the phone, really going to be about how tight Tony’s clothes were? But it really was tight and very, very distracting, how was Steve meant to ignore that?

“It has to be tight to go under the new Iron Man suit. I had all these clothes that could go from comfortable to form-fitting with a tug of some cords, but after you mentioned my jogging clothes, I thought I looked like I was letting myself go if I was wearing them all the time,” Tony said, sounding a little defensive.

Steve didn’t fully understand what Tony meant, and how Tony could be ‘letting himself go’ by wearing jogging outfits. But his mouth was moving before his brain could untangle Tony’s thought processing, which was usually good, since that could take hours.

“But you looked good in the jogging outfits too,” Steve said, feeling the back of his neck heat up as he realized what he had just said.

“I know,” Tony said quickly, although he looked away and rubbed his nose, a clear indicator that he was a little embarrassed. It was nice to see that Steve wasn’t the only one who felt that way, and that he could still read Tony to some degree.

Now that Steve was getting over the shock of seeing Tony in person and in an outfit that looked like he had been sewn into it, Steve finally registered the familiar blue glow in Tony’s chest and how it shouldn’t be there. The arc reactor. It had already been removed, because Tony didn’t need it anymore.

“What happened?” Steve asked, a little anxious as he gestured at the arc reactor. “Why did you put it back in your chest?”

Tony looked startled, looking down before he waved it off. “Nothing happened. It’s not there to stop shrapnel or do anything with my heart, if that’s what you’re thinking. The arc reactor is much shallower now, and it’s more of a nanite container. And it powers the suit, when the nanites form the Iron Man suit. You’ll get it when you see it.”

Steve looked at Tony, really looked at his face without letting himself be distracted by that very nice outfit. Tony’s stress was clear in the deep frown he was wearing. His goatee was still perfectly shaved, sharp dark lines that framed his soft lips, but he looked tired. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his mouth was tight in a way that looked like he was unhappy, worried. 

And he was still the most handsome man Steve had ever laid eyes on.

But there was no time to dally, no time for long talks, and they both knew that. Tony didn’t call them all to assemble for any minor situation.

“You heard what I said to Barnes,” Tony said, eyes flickering down before looking up again.

“Yeah, I know. There’s no time now.” Steve agreed, meeting Tony’s gaze. He couldn’t read Tony, not completely; where once he knew what decisions Tony had made just by looking into those expressive eyes, now, whatever had been accessible to him was closed off. But he had to hope. “Can we talk later?”

“Yeah… yeah, let’s do that,” Tony said, wiping a hand over his face, like he was trying to wipe off his stress. “I just wanted to say hi, so that you know that we’re okay now, after all those text messages and maybe a couple hundred B.A.R.F. therapy sessions I had. We need to be okay for what’s coming.”

Steve nodded. He couldn’t help saying, quietly, hopefully, “I hope we’d be okay even if there wasn’t something coming.”

Tony looked him in the eye, searching his gaze for… what? Steve had no idea anymore. Whatever it was, maybe Tony did find it, because he nodded. “Yeah, we’re okay. And look, I wanted to give you this.”

He opened the bag he had slung over one shoulder and Steve knew what it would be even before he saw it.

Tony pulled it out of the bag awkwardly with a one-handed grip, and presented the gleaming shield to Steve.

“Here, misplaced belongings, returned to its rightful owner,” Tony said, giving Steve a small smile. “Some asshole accidentally took it.”

“Really? I heard a douche dropped it,” Steve said with a completely straight face.

Tony choked and coughed for about ten seconds, half-laughing in shock before raising his eyebrows. “Who taught you that word?”

“You did, Tony,” Steve said with a grin.

Tony shook his head. “Okay, come on, it’s heavy.”

Without further ado, Steve took the shield from Tony on autopilot, accepting it with a thumping heart. The familiar weight felt shockingly good in Steve’s hands, like a loop closing so it was finally complete again.

Blinking down at the shield, Steve tried to shove down the wave of overwhelming feelings. He didn’t want Tony to see him like that, so he just took a moment, took a deep breath, and said, “Did you have DUM-E shine the shield every day? I think I can see my reflection in it.”

“Yeah, I used it as a mirror in the workshop, in case I forgot how I looked,” Tony said with a friendly eye-roll. “Let’s go on in. Rhodey is getting the Wakandans, and the others inside are probably chomping at the bit to talk our ears off, and that’s saying something coming from me.”

“Let’s do this,” Steve said, nodding.

They walked into the Avengers compound together.

# # # # # #

Turned out, the end of the world was coming, and it was coming from outer space, aimed right for Earth.

The Avengers compound was crowded with people, but only the essential people were crammed into the largest conference room for the discussion. Everyone remained standing because there weren’t enough chairs to go around. When Tony said they had guests, what he meant was that they had Asgardian guests from outer space. Basically, all the remaining survivors of Asgard were now milling around the Avengers compound, although only a select few were right there in the conference room. Before Steve could really look at who were in the conference room, Rhodey came by and shook Steve’s hand.

“Great to see you, Cap.”

“You too, Rhodey.”

“Hey,” Natasha said from Steve’s side.

Rhodey looked them over. “Well. You guys really look like crap. Must’ve been a rough couple of years.

“Yeah, well, the hotels weren’t exactly five star,” Sam said with a depreciating grin, and clasped hands with Rhodey too.

Natasha smiled. “You think this is bad? We just came from Wakanda. You should have seen us before that.”

“I think you look great, personally,” said a voice from behind Rhodey. They turned and stared in surprise. _Bruce_. “Yeah, I’m back.”

Steve shook his hand, grinning. “You are. Where have you been?”

“Long, loooong story,” Bruce said with a grimace.

“Hi, Bruce,” Natasha said, after Steve stepped aside.

Bruce shuffled his feet and gave her an awkward smile. “Nat.”

Oh, right. The last time Bruce was with any of them had been during the Ultron situation. From what Natasha had said later, she had to take extreme measures to get Hulk out when all Bruce had wanted to do was leave.

“This is awkward,” Sam muttered under his breath.

Clint shrugged. “They’ll be okay.”

“There is no awkwardness among brothers in arms. And sisters. And any other gender or species. Let’s say comrade in arms instead.” Steve turned to the person speaking and came face-to-face with a familiar but much changed face.

Steve was shocked to see Thor with his closely shorn hair and a black eyepatch over one eye. Thor greeted him with a grin and an exuberant hug. Steve gripped Thor’s shoulders in return just as hard, genuinely delighted to see him after such a long absence.

“New haircut?” Steve said the first thing out of his mind once they stepped back.

“Looks like you copied my beard,” Thor said with good humor.

Steve shrugged and grinned as well. “Thought I would show you how a real beard looks like.”

Thor raised his eyebrows. “Oh, you think that little rat on your face is what a real beard looks like?”

“Alright, we don’t have time for a beard off,” Tony said, clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention as he walked by. He stopped in the middle of the room, at the head of the conference table. “Okay, everyone knows the Avengers and the Wakandan royalty, because you own a television or read the news. Everyone except the Asgardians, but I’ve given you guys a debriefing on who’s who complete with powerpoint slides, funny photos and entertaining background music.”

“I’ve forgotten it all already,” said a woman in a silver suit, before taking a swig of what looked to be whiskey straight from the bottle.

“Thank you for the complete appreciation of my hard work, Valkyrie. Anyway, that leaves the introductions for those who just came from Wakanda,” Tony said before pointing at the two men standing to the side of the conference table. “These two weirdos in the fancy robes are the wizards.”

The taller man of the two who also had a goatee — but didn’t wear it as well as Tony, in Steve’s opinion — sent Tony an annoyed look. “I’m Doctor Strange and this is Wong. We’re Masters of the mystic arts.”

Which just sounded goofy. Steve looked over to Tony to see him make an extravagant eye-roll.

“Um, if we’re using our made-up names, then I’m Spider-Man,” said the slight figure beside Tony, dressed in a red and blue body suit with a black webbing pattern all over it. He had been there at the airport fight, and Steve remembered he had been a pretty good opponent with a lot to say during combat. He had reminded Steve of Tony, albeit younger and more enthusiastic.

Tony waved his hands at the remaining people in the room. “Asgard has been destroyed, and Thor brought his remaining people to Earth because of a message he has. That’s Valkyrie, a badass Asgardian warrior who can’t be bothered to remember powerpoint presentations, and Heimdall, an all-seeing all-hearing portal opening Asgard person, I don’t know his exact title.”

“I was the Gatekeeper of Asgard, Guardian of the Bifrost. But as Asgard is no more, I’m just an Asgardian,” Heimdall said, his gold gaze looking over the room. Steve felt a shiver as his gaze passed over him, like Heimdall had seen a lot more than just the group of them, standing there.

“His all-seeing, all-hearing part is what’s important,” Tony said. “Tell us what you saw and heard.”

Heimdall closed his eyes, and spoke.

He had seen the cosmos, the stars, the planets, the end of one magnificent ancient world. He had looked away as Asgard burned, looked outward from the ship they had been onboard. And he had seen an armada, coming towards their ship.

Thanos. The Mad Titan, with a group of followers called the Black Order.

They had been heading straight for the ship Thor and his surviving Asgardians were on. Thanos was after the Space stone contained within the Tesseract, which Loki had somehow taken possession of. When Heimdall had seen Thanos heading straight for their ship, he had seen they couldn’t win, had informed Thor and Loki to run, that he could summon Dark Magic to open the bifrost one last time for their escape.

But Thor had refused to leave his people to their deaths, so instead, Loki had used the Space stone in his possession to bend time-space, to bring their entire ship to Earth in just the blink of an eye, almost killing himself in the process with his lack of familiarity with the stone.

Wait a minute… Steve scanned the room. It was only then that Steve saw that Loki was actually in the room, leaning back against the opposite wall of the room, buffing his nails and looking completely relaxed.

“He a danger?” Bucky murmured from beside Steve, catching on to Steve’s sudden tension as he looked at Loki.

“Always. But if what they’re saying is true, we might still need him,” Steve said quietly.

Loki shifted, his eyes suddenly meeting Steve’s from across the room like he had heard what Steve had just said loud and clear. He winked. Steve kept his expression schooled, unimpressed, and looked to Heimdall instead.

Heimdall was still talking. “My sight allowed me to see Thanos, to hear his plans. Thanos is a fanatic, with his own imagined philosophy on balance and his goal is to wipe out half the population of every planet. He has been doing it through war for years; you’ve seen his methods in the attack on your planet by the Chitauri. But now, he is collecting the Infinity Stones. When he has all six of them, he will have the power to wipe out half of the population all around the universe with the snap of his fingers.”

That much power that could be wielded so easily… Steve felt a chill go up his spine, folding his arms to keep it from showing. “What’s the timeline?”

“He is heading for this planet right now and will arrive in two days,” Heimdall said. “You have three of the stones right here.”

“We have the Space stone now on Earth, but which are the other two stones?” T’Challa asked with a frown.

“The Mind stone,” Vision said, touching his forehead where the yellow stone was embedded.

The wizard called Doctor Strange stepped forward and held up a gold pendant shaped like an eye, a green glint coming from within it. “The Time stone.”

From the far corner of the room, Loki snapped his fingers and a blue cube appeared above his hand, to complete the presentation. “And the Space stone.”

“If Thanos needs all six stones, why don't we just stick one or two down a garbage disposal? The Space stone and the Time stone,” Tony said, pointing at Loki and Doctor Strange. “Keep him from getting what he wants.”

“No, can do,” Doctor Strange said immediately.

Wong spoke up, “We swore an oath to protect the Time Stone with our lives.”

Loki shrugged, waved his hand and the cube disappeared. “And maybe that will save the rest of the universe, but it won’t stop Thanos. He would still come to Earth and do things the slow way, killing half your population. He is called the _Mad_ Titan after all. He won’t stop so easily.”

Tony’s face pinched, as if it annoyed him to take advice from Loki. Steve felt the same way.

“We need a weapon, one able to defeat gods,” Thor said, a gleam in his remaining eye. “And I think I know where to find one.”

And just like that, they started planning and strategizing how to stop the Mad Titan.

# # # # # #

The world almost ended in a whimper, in a snap of fingers, not a bang. But the Avengers, the Asgardians, the Wakandans, even the Guardians of the Galaxy whom Thor brought back to Earth along with his god-killing weapon, they all fought back against an invading alien force, they fought back with everything that they had.

And they won.

Together, they had beaten the Black Order. They had taken the gauntlet from Thanos and killed him, taking the stones from the gauntlet to be dispersed.

They had fought alien hordes, fought a mad man who wanted to destroy half of the universe, they had done the impossible and finally won.

All of them had achieved a lot in those few days. But the one thing Steve and Tony had not managed to do was really _talk_. They had talked about battle strategy, logistics, plans, but nothing beyond that. There had been no time, not with the army that was bearing down on them.

Now, it was a day since that final battle, and they were back in the Avengers compound again. It was six in the morning, and Steve sat alone at the dining room table, where they all used to come together for meals.

They had been lucky during this fight, although it had also been a good deal of teamwork and quick thinking on the battlefield. It had been the most dangerous enemy Earth had ever faced, the biggest and most advanced army they had ever encountered, and they had won.

Yet, here he was, sitting alone and still looking at his flip phone. Some things didn’t change.

Steve looked at the messages again, fingers pressing over well-worn buttons.

Tony: _I know how text messaging works, i wouldn’t have been waiting by my phone, crying when there’s no instant replies_

Steve: _Is that how text messaging works? No one told me. I’ve been crying by my phone all this time._

“Steve, are you serious here?” Bucky’s hoarse voice interrupted his thoughts. 

Steve looked up almost guiltily, but refused to close the phone out of sheer stubbornness. They had won a major battle yesterday, and if he wanted to sit here and read his messages, he would. Bucky pulled a chair out and sat down too, slumping over the dining table.

“What are you doing awake so early?” Steve asked, knowing that Bucky wasn’t exactly an early morning riser.

“Your brooding woke me up,” Bucky grumbled, eyes heavy with sleep. When Steve gave him an unimpressed stare, Bucky admitted reluctantly, “Maybe a nightmare had something to do with it too.”

Steve felt an ache in his chest, and he asked, “Are you okay? Do you—”

Bucky cut him off. “Nope, I don’t want to talk about it. I want to talk about why you’re sitting here at ass o’clock in the morning, staring at your phone like it’s betrayed you. You don’t even need the phone anymore. You’re right here in the same building as Stark.”

“I know that,” Steve said, with a huff of annoyance. He didn’t really want to talk about it, but if it helped distract Bucky from his nightmares, then he would. “I know I don’t need the phone to talk to him anymore.”

“But…?” Bucky prompted after Steve fell silent.

“But we’re not talking. With or without the phone. We talked some things out, but that was it. I kept the phone on me for almost two years because I was worried he would need me, but also, selfishly, I was hoping he would be willing to talk to me. Now, I don’t need the phone, because we’re in the same building, but nothing has changed. I still don’t know if he even wants to talk to me ever again or deal with having me on the same team. We’re still… broken.”

Steve looked back down at the phone, feeling hollowed out by his confession, feeling exhausted. It felt hopeless.

“God, Steve, you idiot,” Bucky said, causing Steve to look up with a frown. “We just came out of war with fucking aliens. There hasn’t been time for a breather, so of course you haven’t talked yet. Have you seen how Tony looks at you? I barely know the guy and I know that’s not the way a man looks at someone he hates or someone he doesn’t want to talk to ever again.”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked, trying not to hope, but feeling hope grow anyway.

“I can’t believe you’re making me spell this out, ya punk. Tony looks at you like a starving man who just saw a steak. He looks at you like he’s desperate to be near you, even if he doesn’t know how to be,” Bucky explained, shaking his head at Steve. “Don’t tell me you don’t see it.”

“I used to be able to read him, but nowadays, he’s so cut off,” Steve said haplessly.

“You look at him when he isn’t looking at you, and he looks at you when you aren’t looking at him. You’re both such dopes. Without the end of the world looming, maybe you guys will have time to pull your heads out of your asses.”

Steve scrolled through the messages on the phone absently. “I wouldn’t have put it like that, but I hope so.”

“I hope so too, buddy, because you’re unbearable like this.”

Steve shot him a dirty look, but Bucky only shrugged, scratching his nose with his metal hand. “What, it’s true. I thought Sam was exaggerating about how you were so sad and weird about the uniform, how you kept dyeing it black and refused to accept a new one from T’Challa even when your uniform got torn. Something about how Tony was the one who made this ratty one for you. Then there was the phone business, putting it in a little bag because you were afraid you would drop it into the toilet, walking around like the phone was stuck to your hands, and you were constantly rereading the messages, even in bed late at night, mooning over them like—”

Steve frowned. “You don’t even get along with Sam, why do you believe everything he says?”

“Is it true?” That… wasn’t from Bucky.

Steve’s gaze snapped to the entrance of the dining room. It was Tony, with Rhodey standing beside him. Tony wasn’t in the tight outfit that he wore supposedly so the Iron Man suit could fit over him as snugly as possible, and not just to drive Steve crazy with distraction. Instead, he was wearing a gray hoodie and sweatpants, what Steve had seen before all those months ago. His hair looked ruffled, like he had ran his hands through it multiple times, and his cheeks weren’t as clean-shaven as usual. Rhodey looked equally dishevelled in a T-shirt and jeans. They both looked like they hadn’t slept at all and now they were both staring wide-eyed at Steve and Bucky. How long had they been standing there? How much had they heard?

Tony looked a mixture of both surprised and disbelieving. Why disbelieving? Did Tony really have no idea how crazy he made Steve, no clue how insane Steve had behaved in the two years away? Well, how would he know? Steve knew, he knew because Bucky and everyone else constantly told him how much brooding he was doing and also because he had enough self-awareness to see what he was doing, but when had he ever let Tony see this side of him?

The disbelief in Tony’s eyes, the frown on his face, it made Steve want to wipe clear that uncertainty in those brown eyes.

Steve took a deep breath and met Tony’s gaze. “Yeah, it’s true.”

Tony took a step further into the dining room. “The… phone thing. You had it with you all the time. And you kept rereading the messages.”

They were statements, but said with so much disbelief and uncertainty that they sounded like questions. Steve rubbed a hand against his bearded cheek and sighed.

“Yeah, that was true too,” Steve admitted.

“He took it on missions and read the messages even when under enemy fire,” Bucky said, breaking his silence like he couldn’t hold it in anymore. “He carried many, many power banks around to charge the phone because he was so worried the phone would run out of charge. He looked at the phone before he slept, after he woke up, glanced at it when he was eating, waiting, even took it into the bathroom and tried to tell me everyone did that in the modern day.”

Tony said absently, “Well, a lot of people do that.”

“So you were crazy obsessed with the flip phone too, huh?” Rhodey said, seemingly deciding to take the early morning rants in stride. He went to the cabinets to retrieve a power bar. “I don’t know if it’s cause I haven’t slept yet, after spending hours talking to endless generals, but that seems like the most believable thing I’ve heard all week. It’s very… you.”

Steve frowned. “What do you mean obsessed with the flip phone _too_?”

Rhodey paused mid-chew, and said with his mouth full, “Oops?”

He didn’t sound particularly repentant.

“ ‘Oops’ isn’t going to cut it, canary,” Tony said, sounding grumpy.

Steve looked over at him, and now, Tony looked less disbelieving and more embarrassed. Steve noticed something that he had missed earlier in his own embarrassment. It was a cable that seemed to run from Tony’s pants pocket to somewhere underneath his zipped up hoodie.

“What’s that wire thing for?” Steve asked, although he already had some suspicions because the cable looked familiar. But why was it going under Tony’s hoodie?

“It’s for technology too complicated to even explain— hey!”

Rhodey had walked back over to him, and in a quick motion, unzipped Tony’s hoodie and pulled out whatever it was in Tony’s pants pocket. He handed what he pulled out back to Tony, and then called over his shoulder, “Hey, Barnes. I think we should leave this two alone to talk things out, don’t you think?”

“You’re pretty smart, Rhodes,” Bucky said, getting out of his chair and heading for where Rhodey was already making a beeline out of the dining room. “I guess all Jameses are smart.”

“We have to be, to handle the Steves and Tonys of the world,” Rhodey said with a grin, shooting a sloppy salute at Steve before he and Bucky disappeared round the corner.

Steve looked back at Tony and got out of the chair suddenly, almost stumbling over the chair’s legs.

“Tony, I can’t— Why are you charging the phone with your arc reactor?” Steve asked, shocked and a little horrified.

With the hoodie unzipped and the phone in Tony’s hand instead, Steve could now see that Tony had his flip phone connected to the familiar charging cable, except instead of being plugged into a power bank or wall socket, the cable trailed up his bare torso to the arc reactor. There was a little square port sticking out of the bottom of the arc reactor which the charging cable was plugged into, so Steve presumed that Tony had even made a new arc reactor that was compatible with the cable.

“Look, it was just convenient,” Tony started.

But Steve interrupted him as he walked over until he was standing in front of Tony. “Is this dangerous for the arc reactor?” His hands were hovering over the cable, because he wanted to pull it out, but he wasn’t sure if he should.

“It’s not. Calm down, Steve. I think you’ve forgotten that I don’t need the arc reactor anymore,” Tony pointed out. “It’s just for the nanites and the Iron Man suit.”

“Right,” Steve said, suddenly remembering the conversation they had a few days ago about the arc reactor being something called a ‘nanite container’. It was just instinctive for Steve to feel discomfort at the sight of something plugged into the arc reactor that was set in Tony’s chest. But Steve was still baffled about one thing. “Why are you charging your phone on it?”

“Well, why don’t you tell me why you apparently have power banks spilling out of every pocket,” Tony shot back, putting his hands on his hips with the phone still in his grip. “Last I remember, the quinjet has charging outlets, it’s not like you need power banks.”

Steve met Tony’s defiant gaze, his mind going over his sudden revelation, going over what they were saying to each other, and he let out a laugh even as he shook his head. “I guess I was doing that because I’m just as crazy as you are.”

Tony looked like he was about to argue, before he seemed to realize his situation, standing with his torso bare, flip phone in hand charging from the arc reactor in his chest. For a moment, they just looked at each other.

Then they both laughed, deep and heart-felt, laughed until they were doubled over. Every time they slowed down, they’d look at each other, both holding phones in hand, before they doubled over laughing again. It took a good long while for their laughter to subside, for Tony to rest his forehead against Steve’s shoulder, still chuckling occasionally. Tony’s downward gaze must have landed on the flip phone Steve was still holding, because Tony touched his hand tentatively.

“We don’t really need the phones anymore, do we?” Tony asked, quietly.

He looked up at Steve, and they were standing so close, Steve could see the golden-browns in Tony’s irises. 

“No, we don’t,” Steve agreed. “But it feels safer to have it close by.”

Tony smiled, admitted ruefully, “I can’t sleep at night unless I have the phone by my pillow. Rhodey started calling it my girlfriend.”

“I can’t sleep until I’ve read all the messages we exchanged again, and I read them again in the morning,” Steve added his own anecdote.

“I didn’t want to leave the phone charging somewhere, so it was just easier to start charging it on the arc reactor in my chest.”

“Nat gave me hell when she found that I had put a spare power bank in her bag just in case something happened to all the other spare power banks I had.”

“What a pair we are,” Tony said with a shake of his head, smiling fondly up at Steve.

Something about the way Tony’s eyes creased at the edges with the smile, something about the warmth in Tony’s gaze finally broke Steve. 

“God, I missed you so much, Tony,” Steve whispered hoarsely, his usual composure completely shattered from one moment to the next. He had kept all his misery bottled up for so long, tried to always maintain a strong and invulnerable front, but it was the hope, the possibility that he could have _this_ , could finally be on the same page with Tony that broke his careful control.

Tony startled and looked him in the eyes, bare and vulnerable, unshielded. “I missed you too, Steve.” He took a deep breath and admitted quietly, “I missed you every day that you were gone.”

“I wanted to come home, I almost begged you to let me come home,” Steve said, low and intense.

“I had no idea,” Tony said, looking a little dazed.

“I’m starting to see that now. I thought I was obvious.” Steve shook his head at how ridiculous they both had been.

“Steve, some days, I can’t read you at all. You’re too good at hiding how you feel. I wanted to message you all the time, but I was angry at first, and then later, I was afraid I would be too clingy when you were busy. I, I had no idea you might even—” Tony faltered, as if he didn’t dare make that leap of faith even now, didn’t dare to assume. His eyes were wide as he looked at Steve, panicked as if he was afraid he had gotten it wrong.

Steve decided it was time they both took a step forward together, rather than cling on to relics of the past. Slowly, telegraphing his movements, Steve put the phone in his pocket, and instead, curled his hand around the back of Tony’s neck. Tony’s eyelashes fluttered for a moment at Steve’s warm grip, before he opened his eyes wide and looked at Steve. For the first time in years, Steve could read Tony again, could see what decision he had just made.

It was how Steve met Tony halfway, met him in the middle with their lips pressed together slowly, tentatively. He could feel Tony’s soft mouth and the prickle of Tony’s facial hair against his skin. A sharp inhale at the touch of their lips, and Steve found his heart pounding at Tony’s familiar scent, a mix of coconut, metal, and coffee; sharp like motor oil.

Steve couldn’t get enough of it. The smell of Tony, how his mouth felt, the feel of his body pressed close. Steve parted his lips and Tony was right there, opening up for him as well. The touch of their tongues, soft and wet and intimate, was enough to make Steve groan, to receive Tony’s own moan into his mouth. Just from the one kiss, Steve found himself aroused beyond reason, his heart filled to bursting at the thought that this was Tony, Tony, _Tony_ here in his arms.

Their lips parted, and Steve had no idea when Tony had wrapped his arms around Steve’s shoulders, when they had entwined so close together. Tony made a grumbly sound, moved his arms away to unplug the cable from his arc reactor, unplugged the other end of the cable from the phone, and tossed the cable to the floor. Then he stuffed the phone into his own pocket, and twined his arms around Steve’s back again.

Steve smiled down at him, touched a thumb to the corner of Tony’s beautiful eyes. “I had no idea what I wanted until I thought I had lost you.”

“Yeah, it was kind of the same for me,” Tony said softly, leaning the side of his face against Steve’s touch.

“I’m serious about this, Tony. I want… I want anything you’re willing to give me,” Steve said, his voice shaking a little, shocked at how raw he felt at the admission, and how much he was showing Tony.

Tony smiled and smiled, the happiness shining in his gaze. “Well, I want everything.”

“Same, god, yes,” Steve murmured, staring into Tony’s dark, liquid eyes, framed by the long lashes that Steve wanted to kiss. Oh, he could do that now. He leaned forward and kissed one corner of Tony’s eyes, feeling a soft huff of a laugh from Tony against his cheek. This earned him a kiss to his own cheek from Tony, which evolved into Tony nipping at his jaw, nuzzling at his beard.

“You know, I’m still mad,” Tony murmured from where he was biting at Steve’s jaw.

“Hm?” Steve asked, finding it hard to take Tony’s words seriously with their bodies pressed so close together. 

“Of all the phones you could have sent me, you sent an ancient Nokia flip phone. It wasn’t even a Starkphone,” Tony said, suddenly shifting back to look Steve in the eye. “It was an insult to even have it in my home.”

Steve smiled and pressed a fond kiss to Tony’s nose, before pulling back. “I was hoping for a response. This response, actually. It’s a little late, but I’ll take it.”

“You should be called Captain Asshole instead, that would be more accurate,” Tony said, but the smile belied the comment.

“Well, you don’t need to keep the phone anymore,” Steve said with a smile. “So there’s that.”

“Hmm, we’ll see,” Tony said, reeling Steve in for another kiss.

Steve allowed himself one more dizzying kiss, before he pulled back and said softly, “I want to do this right. I want, I mean, I want to take you out.”

“Yeah, me too. Let’s do it properly,” Tony agreed, and god, Tony’s eyes were trained on Steve’s lips, watching as Steve talked. “Much as it pains me to say, but we need to talk too.”

Tony’s voice sounded dreamy, almost distracted. Now Steve was the one staring at Tony’s lips, at the way they curved up and looked reddened and _wet_ from their shared kisses.

“Yeah, okay,” Steve murmured, before he leaned in again.

This time, Tony was the one to meet him halfway with heated fervor. They kissed through heavy breathing, couldn’t get enough of each other’s taste and feel. At one point, Steve buried his face in Tony’s neck, inhaling the smell of him deeply, feeling like his chest was expanding with more than just air. Tony turned and sucked Steve’s earlobe into his mouth, earning a deep groan from Steve.

The sound seemed to spur Tony on. His hands scrambled at Steve, digging into shoulders, curling into Steve’s hair as they kissed, wet and open-mouthed.

Steve drew back and pulled in a ragged breath. “Tomorrow? We can talk and go out tomorrow instead?”

“You dog,” Tony gasped. “You beautiful, genius horndog, yeah, let’s talk tomorrow.”

They fell into each other’s arms again.

# # # # # #

“What’s this I hear about you pretending to play Snake on your phone in the bathroom?” Tony asked idly.

They were still in bed. The sunbeams were streaming in through the windows that were semi-opaque, but they didn’t reach the bed. Steve wished that they did. He wanted to see how Tony would look, bathed in golden light.

For now, he admired the sight before him. Tony was reclining on the rumpled sheets, the soft blanket draped very low on his hips, low enough to show a tantalizing glimpse of Tony’s thigh. Steve wanted to suck a dark mark onto that bared skin, wanted to slide the teasing blanket further down. Tony had propped himself up on one elbow, his bare torso stretched out invitingly for Steve’s gaze. Tony had beautiful, lean musculature, with a slight softness around his belly that Steve loved all the more, knowing it was something only he had access to under all of Tony’s clothing.

Idly, Steve ran a hand over Tony’s covered thigh, smoothing out the blanket and enjoying the feel of warm, hard muscle beneath the cloth. Tony reached out and combed his fingers through the hair curling at the nape of Steve’s neck. Steve had to suppress a shiver of delight at the casual familiarity, at Tony’s soft aimless patting.

“I did play Snake,” Steve answered belatedly, remembering the question Tony had posed to him.

Tony frowned. “I didn’t think you would find that interesting.”

“It can be challenging sometimes.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, here, look at my latest game.”

Without removing the hand on Tony’s thigh, Steve reached under his pillow to pull out his phone in its little blue case and flipped it open.

“Hey, your case has a shield,” Tony said with amusement, prodding at the little Captain America shield on the back of the case.

“The case is also made of vibranium,” Steve admitted, a little sheepish.

Tony stared at him. “You’re shitting me.”

“Nope.” Steve shrugged. “I lead a dangerous life. The phone almost got shot a few times, so when I asked Shuri for help, she gave me this. She also said something about ‘lovelorn idiots’ and being a sucker for a good pining story.”

“As long as she doesn’t expect us to narrate the end of the pining story,” Tony said with a wry smile, squeezing Steve’s shoulder affectionately.

“Okay, here, you can see where I left off.” Steve clicked through to the Snake game one-handed without even needing to think about it. When he clicked ‘Start’, Tony let out a muffled yelp of surprise.

A three-dimensional-model was projected into the air above the phone, where a rather long snake was moving upwards vertically even as its body trailed down and sideways horizontally, long enough to cover a good portion of the projected cube.

Tony stared at the projection with an open mouth. Steve wanted to kiss that mouth.

“The Snake game is in three dimensions… and it’s a hologram…” Tony said, a little surprised.

Steve shrugged. “The phone did start out as a Nokia flip phone, but Shuri changed some of the things on the inside to Wakandan technology, including the Snake game. I told people about the game, but no one believed me.”

“Oh, I believe you now,” Tony said faintly.

“Shuri said she wanted to make the phone waterproof too except it probably wouldn’t pass for a Nokia phone anymore. But my new shield case is waterproof.”

“Oh my god,” Tony muttered. “ _Oh my god_ , my flip phone projects a 3D Snake game, and I never knew.”

Tony pulled away and twisted around, reaching across the wide expanse of his larger-than-King-size bed towards the side table where he had left his flip phone.

Steve was immediately distracted by the lovely sight of Tony’s round ass emerging from beneath the blankets. He knew from experience that it fit just right in his hands. His eyes trailed up the graceful arch of Tony’s spine, to the moving muscles over those shoulder blades, and the curved glimpse of a flexed bicep as Tony tried to reach for the phone without actually getting up.

Steve didn’t even try to resist. He moved forward and curled his body behind Tony’s, leaving no gaps between them and fitting his body into every inviting curve formed by Tony’s stretched form. Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to Tony’s shoulder and then rubbed his beard against Tony’s bare skin.

Tony inhaled sharply, before looking over his shoulder at Steve. His eyes looked darker than normal.

“On second thought, we can check out the game later,” Tony said, already craning his head back, hinting at what he was after.

Steve leaned forward and pressed their lips together, smiling into the kiss. Without looking, Steve tossed his phone to the side, and for the first time in a long while, he didn’t care where it landed.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I put Tony in a slinky undersuit because 1) I like undersuits, and 2) after Steve mentioned the tracksuit outfit to Tony earlier in the fic, I kept feeling like Tony would obsess over it and do something to it. Either make it even more hi-tech or replace it with something really awesome-looking because Steve was paying attention to what he was wearing. So I went with an undersuit. 
> 
> Steve was rather hard on himself in this story at times, so please don't take every piece of self-recrimination as my view of him. That's just my view of Steve being extra down on himself and mopey.
> 
> The title is from the song _Telephone Line_ by Electric Light Orchestra. I wanted something suitably dramatic, but not too serious. ^_^;
> 
> Edit: Here is a story of Tony and his flip phone, [I'm Living in Twilight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15479121). Hope you like it!


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